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Oisin's Poems
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Poems by Oisin V.

ethereal.jpg

Crimson Rising

Tear drops break the surface of the effervescent expanse

Ripples glide across the water

Caressing my body,

Suspended by the brine.  

Your touch frequents my body,

Breaking the stillness

And the path of the tide.

Ubiquity. 

Crimson rising,

It breaks the surface,

Amongst that which lends life,

Glistens a turquoise orb, the all seeing-eye. 

You gaze into my essence and

Dissect my soul

With a cold metallic blade,

The wounds absorb. 

The deep and timeless ocean,

Eternally visitant, ever vigilant.

She beckons to you upon a snow capped wave,

Alluring you into her depths. 

The tide has taken. 

 

Bird Song

I peer into the depths of your untainted eyes

Unknowing, Unloving

Free to stay

Willing to fly. 

You can see, only in two dimensions

Crashing into glass, mirrored,

Invisible to your method of sight

Your world is governed by those translucent panes. 

Bird-song drifts upon resonance

Belonging to you, a celestial being

Eternally echoing

It is absorbed into the mind’s eye 

The melody still glides, perpetually

It carries beneath the black abyss, 

Solar amidst the darkness. 

Spectrum

Suspended upon the crest of a wave,

As the parched petals of the Lotus Flower,

Sink below the surface, creating refracted

Portraits on the meniscus of the water.

Fuchsine shards of glass apparently resting

On a non-utonian liquid. 

A buoyant sheet of plastic drifts downstream,

Carrying water vapour on its underbelly.

The dappled fish meander by below

It reveals the true spectrum of colours to them,

Through the misted haze and

Illusively white light. 

While all is seemingly irreparable

The birds still cut the clouds and

Delve into the perpetual nothingness

Of the night sky.

Unknowing yet not un-loving like

The malevolent force that swept their nests away. 

Satiated

Leadite sharpened and ready,

Cutting upon the blank surface of the page;

Like the meandering brush stroke

Wild and ardent in the face of uncertainty. 

The barren landscape flows with the stream

Melding into the turquoise tides,

Slowly evaporating on the soldered ochre shore.

The bird has left the nest. 

Like the untamed beast who roams the

Lavender, gorse spangled mountain tops,

Eternally galloping, almost as if to find an absolution,

An absolution that will never come.

Monotonous tones from the worn-down

Lead break the ominous silence.

The pencil falls upon the page,

The line has been drawn. 

As the satiated mug of painted liquid

Begins to overflow, all becomes un-misted

And defined like the scene depicted

On the opposite wall, distant and untaught skies. 

In the end they all become one as the birds and

The beast recede into the folder of painted dreams. 

Forgotten and Eternal Dagger 

He unsheathed the fuchsine dagger

Etching epitaphs into the face of a tree

Its sap runs clear.

The syntax of sadness, eternally changing.

Transcribed upon the effervescent water,

All is lost but not forgotten 

Echoing sounds run clear

Through the forest, embracing the tree

As the dagger

Starts to spiral downwards it cuts momentary chasms in the water

Seemingly ever changing,

Covering itself over, irreparable yet not forgotten. 

An insouciant feather rests on the meniscus of the water.

The surrounding flowers are ever changing

Their desperate cries are unheard and forgotten.

The sky becomes clear,

Interrupted by a falling tree,

Spiralling towards a perfidious dagger 

The deep knife slash, changing

Are the voices of the tree

Everything has become clear,

As clear as the forgotten

Sands that became glass and water.

Like the blade resting inside of Gaia, the fuchsine dagger. 

The droplets of descending rain flow clear

From the face of the stars, caressing the leaves of the tree.

The dagger

Is now suspended, it’s conation to perform now long forgotten.

The cocoon has completed changing, its metamorphosis,

Now resting, translucent as if a tenuous body of water. 

The kestrel has descended from the changing

Skies, falling through the forgotten.

In the end the water

Can lay still & become truly clear.

The seed is spread, that of the tree,

Resting at his foot, eternally the dagger. 

The tree grew its saplings, clear and untainted,

The changing water absorbed through their roots,

Always wondering what lies beneath the forgotten & eternal dagger.

This poetry was written and donated by Oisin. If you would like to read more of her work you can go to her FanFiction.Net account.

Information on this website was gathered throughout the internet or created by me, which should have my crediting at the bottom. None of the images are mine, nor the spells.